


Pt 5 - In to the Woods

by AmandaHuffleduck



Series: En Passant [5]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Reality, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-30
Updated: 2012-10-30
Packaged: 2017-11-17 09:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/549907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmandaHuffleduck/pseuds/AmandaHuffleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus continues to do his duty by the Order, but it's hard to stay focused and positive when your heart's bleeding...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pt 5 - In to the Woods

**Author's Note:**

> First published in 2006 on Lupin/Snape Lurve Community.
> 
> Usual disclaimers apply.
> 
> Beta'd by the redoubtable Alestrel.

Remus scowled as another sizeable drop of water plinked against his forehead.

Honestly, this ancient caravan may as well not have a roof for all the good it was doing keeping out the rain. Still - he wiped the drop away before it could begin its slide down his face – he'd slept in worse places.

Another drop impacted with the top of his skull and he sighed, resigned to the necessity of either shifting the emaciated foam mattress down to the floor out of the way of the incipient puddle, or finding somewhere else to kip. The second option was too much like hard work, especially as he was more than half way through a large bottle of a dubious home brew.

Smiling ruefully, he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the raised shelf that functioned as both the caravan's table and bed. There would be just enough room on the floor for the mattress: this prime example of vintage British holiday-making ingenuity might have been a marvel of 'compact design' in its heyday but all it was now was small. It was just as well the door opened outwards or there'd be no room at all. 

Remus got to his feet and carefully arched his back to stretch out the persistent knots.  
Obviously no one grew taller than 5'2" back then; that, or this was designed for circus midgets.

He flicked aside the ratty curtain and peered out at the decaying camping ground.  
It'd stopped raining at least, and he could just make out the flickering glow of candles in a couple of the other equally derelict 'vans. No electricity on the site, or running water… 

This caravan park on the Exmoor coast had closed as a holiday retreat a good twenty years ago and Remus doubted it could be found on any map any more. The current residents had also taken steps to ensure no one could stumble onto it accidentally. The entrance sign had long since been removed, and the small access road had become so overrun with weeds and the area's natural scrubby brush it was almost impossible to spot from the main road. He'd only been able to find it because he had specific directions. 

Isolated, abandoned and forgotten, as a hideout for a reclusive werewolf pack it was ideal.

  


Minerva had sent him into the wilds again to continue the 'mission' Dumbledore had originally given him - to contact the unaligned packs and if not recruit them outright, then at least try and convince them to stay neutral. In his increasingly frequent darker moments Remus thought it was futile, but his blasted optimism would never entirely die, never entirely let him give up, so he continued to trudge out to the arse ends of nowhere to try and _make a difference_.

Remus took a long drink from the bottle, ignoring the faintly metallic taste of the brew.  
As he'd half-expected, the Death Eaters had already made contact with the Exmoor pack, had already made promises about their bright new future at the side of the Dark Lord. But, as he'd discovered on his arrival, the pack was divided and uncertain. Some were ready to throw in their lot with Voldemort out of sheer desperation, while others – the pack's nominal leader included – weren't convinced it was the best path.

Remus had played on the uncertainty, declaring with a quiet earnestness that while he couldn't promise them anything, not a 'better deal' from the Ministry, or an immediate end to the prejudice, he could guarantee that the Order would be meticulously fair and honest in their dealings, and would speak up for them with the powers-that-be.

He had no idea yet if he was making any headway but tomorrow night was full moon and Remus would run with the pack. They'd either tolerate him or rip out his throat, either way, he supposed, he'd have his answer, though he was finding it hard to care. A few people would briefly mourn his passing but at the heart of it Remus knew he was expendable. He always had been.

He sighed and rested his forehead against the grimy, tiny window; he hated himself when he got maudlin. Feeling sorry for yourself was indulgent, and a waste of energy – but there was no one else left to feel sorry for him.

_Oh, stop it._

More irritated with himself now, Remus pushed away from the window and slumped back down on the bed. He couldn't be bothered moving the mattress; it'd stopped raining anyway. He eyed the bottle of dreadful alcohol with disgust but picked it up nonetheless. It would do nothing to alleviate the loneliness but if he drank enough he'd eventually get to a state where he truly didn't care what happened to him. As a bonus, perhaps it'd even wipe out the brain cells that carried memories. Remus lifted the bottle to his mouth - it'd be a relief to lose some of those. He closed his eyes and drank deeply.

Still with his eyes closed he relaxed back against the caravan wall and idly monitored the alcohol seeping through his body as insidious as poison, which it probably was. A chill breeze caressed his bare feet, winding around his ankles. Remus sighed: the damn door had unlatched itself again. He opened his eyes… and froze.

_So this is where it ends_ – the thought flew across his mind as he beheld the blackly hooded figure filling the doorway.

"You look like hell."

Remus had desperately missed that voice and hearing it now caused a thread of arousal to sidle through his shock.

"What are you doing here?" he winced inwardly at the weakness betrayed by the breathiness of his own voice. He didn't want to be weak in front of this man.  
"I heard a rumour…" Snape pulled the door shut behind him. Remus noticed then the wand trained unwaveringly on his chest.  
"You killed Albus." Remus hated the helplessness of the statement but there you have it…  
His visitor remained silent and what could be seen of his face within the deep hood remained expressionless.   
"Why?" Lupin grated.  
"There are no reasons in the world will alter the fact that Dumbledore is dead." Snape replied after a moment. He sounded tight, tense.  
"You're not denying you murdered him?" There was a taut pain in the centre of Remus' chest and he was having trouble catching his breath.  
"And contradict Blessed Potter's tale of woe?" Snape sneered. "Surely not."

They stared at each other.

"I wrote you some letters." Remus said, in more of an effort to break the silence than to impart information.  
"I never received them."  
"I never sent them."  
Snape moved his head impatiently.  
"What was the point, then?"  
"I needed to talk to you. You weren't there."  
Already thin lips thinned further.  
"I do apologise, Lupin, there was no excuse for such uncivil behaviour -"  
"Are you going to kill me?"

The wand didn't move but to Remus' eyes the Death Eater's stance seemed to relax a fraction.

"The Dark Lord has firm views about those who stand in his way…"  
Lupin snorted.  
"Merlin's Beard, can you ever talk in a straight line? Was that a 'yes' or 'no'?"  
"…I have no reason to kill you."

Snape's voice had slid lower and carried a memory - a taste - of a smoky timbre Remus had only heard in moments of intense passion. It fuelled his arousal, and his despair. _Never again to touch and take, never again, never again…_

"Tonks and I got engaged." Remus was fully aware of the malice behind his words. He wasn't proud of himself but it felt savagely good to know he'd scored a hit.

Snape had stiffened again and his tone became clipped and viciously sarcastic.  
"Congratulations. I would have sent a card but I didn't see the bannes posted anywhere."  
"We kept it quiet." Remus looked away: the hollowness inside of him couldn't sustain the weight of petty vengeance. "And then I called it off."

He waited for the jeer, the acidic barb – but none was forthcoming. He glanced back at Snape. The dark Wizard had lowered his wand fractionally.

"I'm sorry."

Remus knew, viscerally, that Snape was apologising for more than just the broken engagement. 

"It's all right." He murmured. "Shit happens."

The silence stretched again, then:  
"Goodbye, Lupin."

Snape was already out of the door before Remus' alcohol fogged brain caught up.

"Wait!"  
Snape paused, managing to convey haughty impatience with his backward glance.  
"What?"

Remus was at a loss for words; all he was clear on at the moment was that he didn't want his lover – yes, _his lover_ , damn them both – to leave.

"Draco Malfoy…" he said at last.  
"Is alive and entirely none of your business. Goodbye, Lupin."

Remus could only watch Snape leave. He wanted to call him back but what could he say, what excuse could he use to continue the conversation? He'd need an excuse; the truth would leave him too vulnerable… 

  


It was so quiet Remus could hear his blood pulsing past his eardrums. He shook himself: this wouldn't do, he had a duty to perform. He summoned his Patronus, though it was a weak and wispy thing, and instructed it to tell the Order he'd seen Severus Snape. He was about to send it off when he noticed something glinting in the spectral glow of his conjuration.

He stepped across to the caravan's toy kitchen and gingerly scooped up the plain bottle sitting innocuously on the bench. Remus twisted out the stopper and sniffed cautiously at the contents.

_Wolfsbane. Still warm…_

He banished his Patronus, its message undelivered, and sank down onto the edge of the bed.

What was more despicable? Knowing you'd fallen in love with the worse kind of traitor – or knowing that if he called you'd go to him in a minute?

Remus cradled the potion bottle in his hands. He felt like crying but there was nothing left inside.


End file.
